Throw Down the Gauntlet
by Jessica Pendragon
Summary: It is a sparring match in more ways than one.


As her attack veers wide of its intended target and splinters to pieces against a tree, Keela lets out a low grumble of annoyance. It is not a difficult spell, just stone and force, but her mind is not concentrating on the right moves. She has become very, very distracted.

"Are you certain this is what you want? I imagine it is not too late to change your mind."

The breeze grabs at his words and twists them across their training space to her awaiting ears, but Keela's eyes are more interested in Solas at the moment. In the warm sunshine, he has removed his outer vest and long tunic to reveal the sleeveless shirt beneath.

She watches lean muscles move as he grips tight to his staff and she feels a forge burning beneath her cheeks at the sight. It does not help that they have been sparring for awhile and sweat glistens like dew across sinew. Keela bites her lip to keep from licking it.

"Lethallan?"

Her gaze snaps to find him wearing a curious expression. "Yes I'm sure. Do you have some doubts you wish to share?"

"It is a surprise, that is all. I was of the mind you would choose to follow the Dirth'ena enasalin if given the chance."

Solas walks closer and she tries to keep from peering at the slim fabric of his shirt that offers peaks at the smooth plains beneath. It is a losing battle when her yellow eyes slide to his normally hidden thighs, thick with hard power that flexes with every step he takes. She imagines him using that strength to lift her up and pin her against the nearest tree, their sweat soaked bodies steaming with the passion between them.

Keela swallows hard. "The…Dirtha-what?"

"The Elvhen of old gave birth to the way of the Knight Enchanter. It was stolen from us, among so many other things. Surely you know this."

The discorded sound of his voice finally breaks her free from this stupor and she gives an impatient huff to expel some of her nerves. "Of course I know that. I was training to be a Keeper, remember? Until some crazed madman cracked the sky open and _this_ happened."

Keela holds up her marked hand and the anchor buzzes like it is happy to be acknowledged. "And since this did happen, I feel specializing in rift magic is a more appropriate pursuit. I am connected to the Fade in ways no one else can claim, wouldn't you agree?"

"I would. I suppose I am more concerned that you are truly seeking this path for the right reasons, for it is more often than not a permanent decision."

"What do you mean?"

Solas stops a few feet in front of her and switches his staff from hand to hand. The movement ripples across his arms and Keela flits her attention across him, trying to find somewhere safe to land, but no where seems to offer respite. She settles on his lips and wonders if they are as soft in the real world as they were in the Fade. She's been waiting as patiently as she can for his answer, but if he is going to do _this_to her without even knowing it, it just doesn't seem fair.

"You have your own trainer, one with more schooled knowledge than I proclaim to possess, and yet you come to me for assistance. It is curious. I would hope you are not deciding your future for the benefit of another."

After a heartbeat, Keela narrows her gaze in outrage. "Are you suggesting I'm here only to spend more time with you? I am not some swooning maid that would throw her favors at knights, nor would I decide my future solely to win _their_ favor in return. Is that what you think of me?"

He shakes his head. "I did not mean to offend. I would merely point out that it seems your focus has not been on our training. Do you find something is distracting you from the task at hand?"

Keela watches his eyes shimmer with subtle mischief, almost too quick to catch, and realizes he has been toying with her. This whole time, he_knew_.

The flames against her face burn even hotter and for a few seconds she wishes they would incinerate her. At the same moment she enjoys the way they roll and spread within like desperate fingers seeking satisfaction.

It is not his answer, not yet, but a challenge. She is more than eager to accept.

"Perhaps I could learn more from her, but training together has some enjoyable side benefits." She moves towards him, twirling her staff behind her back, and holds it there with both hands. The movement pushes her chest forward and even her pragmatic apostate can't resist the offering. He is not the only one who stripped away layers in the heat of the sun. "Don't you think?"

Keela can feel a bead of sweat moving down her collar bone and watches his eyes track its journey until it disappears beneath the low hem of her undershirt. She thanks all the Creators, even the Maker, for the timing. Yet Solas is able to school his features at the sight and only a quick exhale from his nose betrays his aloof composure.

"It is…" he pauses, voice dipping lower even as one of his brows lifts. "Quite pleasing to be in your company, yes."

A trail of laughter escapes from her lips and she is confident enough to accept when she has been defeated. But this isn't over, not by any means. Keela pulls away and returns her staff to a starting position. "I think you have won this round, but would you care for another? I will not be so forgiving this time."

Solas gives her a look, an intimate one that only lately he has been willing to share, and it is something that makes her toes curl with delight. He mimics her stance and magic thrums through the air. "I look forward to it."


End file.
